Another Journey
by BrokenNarsil16
Summary: Many years have seen Ash wandering the lands in search of pokemon. Now he has entered a land where nothing is the same as the outside worlds, an assassin stalks his footsteps, and a haunted memory rips his heart...


Another Journey – 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon.

* * *

"Figure it out. It's what you're paid for."

"Yes sir, I will kill him."

"You had better."

* * *

Three lonely days find our hero in the desert. Of course, when one is in such a hellish place, bereft of any water or color, he begins to take the steadily declining paths of waste. Gradually, his body will deteriorate, being burnt crisp by the sun, parched by thirst, blistered from the endless miles of travel. Then his mind falls prey as the next victim. Either in light of the aforementioned bodily torture, or the inevitable hopelessness that encroaches upon him, he will begin to lose his sanity. The sun can sap it, much in the same way as it takes the dew from a morning lawn. And in much the same way as a lawn can enter his mind, the longing and desire for such a lush paradise, in the face of the grisly sand before him, his mental functions will falter.

But at this moment, he is not quite to such a helpless state. Three days is not long enough to squander a carefully planned voyage; not if you have any sense. And Ash does have a bit of sense, having traveled the wilds for nigh on nine years. And his preparation was sublime. Having nearly a dozen water skins, a light cloak to block the sun, sand shoes, and a decoction of root and cream to protect his skin, he was a proficient traveler. The outskirt-dwelling Sirandoski had given him these things, and their knowledge of the sands.

This region was a strange one, bereft of nearly any technology. Pokeballs were nonexistent, along with buildings, vehicles, electricity, running water and fast-food. It was called Enreto, the land of old. This was not a translation on the name, but another title that Ash had come up with.

It had been a year now that he had wandered these lands in search of pokemon. New species there were, dozens of them. Yet he hadn't done much hunting. With a limited supply of pokeballs, he could only catch so many. And something else, something about how the people of Enreto coexisted with the pokemon, made him lose the drive to capture them. It was like a community, they and the beasts. Without any distinction between higher and lower life, they lived and worked among each other. Ash understood this, for his relationship with Pikachu was the same. Yet to the folks here, capturing pokemon was the same as capturing people.

They didn't have the name 'pokemon' here; the creatures were called Tarnil. Oddly enough, even with this outlandish name, the individual names of the pokemon remained. They all knew Pikachu as what he was, and by that name. Ash chalked this up to being a general understanding from a time in the distant past when all the various regions were one. But despite any strangeness in the language or actions of these people, they were generally good people. They had treated Ash with utmost kindness and the most patient of dealings with him, as he was used to the conveniences of modern life. After a year among the technology-bereft Enreto, Ash was used to it all. He fully appreciated the work involved in living the old ways, as he had been obliged to perform much survival work among them.

A few days ago, his journey had led him to the Sirandoski. They understood that he wanted to cross the desert to the city of Garan. He explained his quest for understanding the nature of tarnil, having changed his purposes in this land after the first few months. They took him in to explain the dangers of the desert and prepare him. After a while, when he thought he was ready, he left. Pikachu had his own little white turban for protection, and he sat perched atop Ash's shoulder.

Now, if his reckoning was correct, they still had two days of travel left. He once again looked to his map, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. Pikachu grunted at the heat, and Ash reached up to pet the little rodent.

An endless expanse lay before them, a blinding white world of sunlit sand. His water was halfway gone, and he knew he would be a crispy lump of meat if not for the cream of the Sirandoski. He looked a sight; face caked with the muddy sun block, turban over his head and neck, and a pack on his back four times the normal size. It was necessary to carry such a device to store the needed items for desert travel.

Another handful of hours passed, and the sun began to set. Ash selected the most hospitable dune and proceeded to set camp. He unfurled a blanket and set it down in the sand. Another blanket he took out, this one for purposes of warmth. The desert was a harsh place, horribly hot during the day, and unbelievably cold at night. He and Pikachu partook of some food and laid down to sleep.

* * *

"I'm looking for a man named Ash Ketchum." the girl asked, using a dialect not native to her, but imperative in this land. Her errors were taken as mere ignorance, and ignored.

"I know him not. Try there." The woman waved her off down the street and continued her business. The girl stood there, downcast and hating this place. When she had joined this organization, they sent her to this hell called Garan. The city was in the midst of a land of indigent people, and she hated it. But a job was a job, and since she no longer even knew Ash, she would happily kill him.

* * *

The end was the most welcome sight he had seen in quite a while. As he crested a hill of sand, green grass met his tired eyes. Not two furlongs away, in the most perfect ending to this sandy hell, his destination was that much closer, "We made it, Pikachu." He patted his little friend, who cooed in understanding response.

With a new energy, he swiftly walked down the slope of the hill that led to the sweet grass in the distance. As he continued walking, he began to see trees on the horizon. He wanted to down every last drop of his water in a joyous celebration of managing the desert, but he knew the city of Garan was yet to be found. He could well end up walking for days in this new green desert without any sign of a water supply. So he arrested his happy outburst and settled for humming an upbeat tune.

Slowly, the sand began to fade into the grass, interspersed with patches of green blades hereabout. That soon gave way to green, splotched with sandy patches. And when he reached the first tree, he gave it a great hug, and continued along his way. He didn't once look back to the desert.

There were trees all about him, a small wood filled with vibrant life. Spearow flittered about building nests and Rattata scampered though the grass in small groups. He was back with the pokemon he liked, free from the random outburst of an Onix in the desert, or a Trapinch with a pit. Pikachu was better at ease, and the day looked bright.

Ash found a stream finally, and drank deeply again and again. He filled his waterskin and scraped the muddy gunk from his face. He was glad to have had it, but equally ecstatic to be rid of it. Too, he packed away his desert clothing; the turban and thin cloak. He was back to himself, in mind and dress.

And soon enough, the patchy trees gave way to a declining hill-face, at the bottom of which lay a walled town. He could see smoke rising from the roofs which protruded the palisade wall, and from the western entrance, a handful of people were coming and going. He had come to the western half of Enreto, still in the region of South Enreti, but the couple of cities and towns in the west were sundered from the east by the Devil's Grasslands in the north, and the Desert in the south.

He had come into Enreto by way of boat from the Inner Lake, and traveled south down the Inner River to the road called Shar. This was the main road from Baldwin in the north to Sirman in the south. Sirman was the city of the Sirandoski. He struck the road, heading south and ending up in Ornilo. Ornilo was the city in which he learned of the customs and traditions of Enreto, its people friendly to outsiders, though they seldom saw them. He spent the lion's share of his time there, yet finally departing with a sense of knowledge of the lands and customs. His search for pokemon led him down the Shar into the forest of Naran-dar. He lost himself there, spending a grueling month in the reaches of the wood, puzzled by the perplexities of the dark depths. But with the help of an old hermit and a charm of passage, he got out. Finding the Shar again, the made his way to Sirman, and the rest of the story is told above.

And here he was now, in the next stage of his journey. The city of Garan was ahead, just as olden in its ways as the other places had been. He smelled the wonderful scent of cooking meat, and hungered almost as much for a soft bed to stay the night in. He would handle all this soon, but first he must investigate.

So hoisting his pack and patting Pikachu, Ash proceeded down the slope towards the city. It was a few furlongs away, and he hoped all the while he was walking that they had an inn. He drew a few strange glances as he entered the walls, not nearly as many as upon his first visit to Ornilo. Then, he had been wearing all his modern clothes and comporting himself in all his modern ways. By now he had learned of the dress and mannerisms of the lands, and only his newness gave cause for curiosity.

As Ash traveled down the main road, he beheld various stands of vendors and shops, people making their way around on their respective business, a blacksmith, a tailor, a stinking tannery, bookmakers and glass makers, houses and stables. There were farms all about, most outside the walls. And his heart leapt when he saw the inn. It was a common building, just like the rest, but on a great wooden sign hanging out from a pole read, 'Garan Inn'. He promptly walked inside.

There was a counter to the left, plates and cups stacked on racks on the wall behind. A dozen or so tables were spaced about on the ground floor, and in the back a staircase led its way to the top floor, where the rooms were. A great fireplace abounded in the back, made of stone, and decorated with all sorts of ornaments and livery. A carved wooden figure of a Marowak, and an old spear were among the treasures.

There was noone in the room, save for an old man behind the bar. He dozed in a chair, obviously not expecting any visitors. Ash hated to wake him, but knew he must, "Excuse me sir."

The man bolted upright, startled to the point of bumping a mug of drink off the counter and stammering about in apology to a father who wasn't present. "Curse the dratted beer, ye old coot!" He looked about, realizing his embarassing folly, "Ah, forgive me son. Ye woke me from a sort of sleep vision, ye did."

"I beg your pardon, sir," Ash said, trying to mimic the accent of these people, without much success, "I need a room, if you're letting them."

"Sure, I be a'lettin rooms. Not many visitors through here, we get. Did get one the other day, a young lass with a shadow being over her. Seemed angry at the wide world, she did. But she paid for a room, right and honest, so I got no reason to go a'judgin her." the man prattled on about his slow business and lazy cook and pestering dog and nagging wife. Ash figured he hardly ever got the chance to talk to anybody, so he listened politely. He had nothing better to do, and took the dialogue as an opportunity to learn more of the talk and ways of the people.

But after nearly half an hour of pure talking, he was beginning to wonder if there was anything the old man didn't know about. He was almost expecting him to start a tirade on Ash's whole life story. And when he paused for breath for a second, Ash took his chance to get a word in.

"How much are the rooms, sir?" The man stopped, as if being snapped from a daze, looking blank for a moment before answering.

"Oh, they be three bits a night. For how long ye be a'stayin, anyhow? That lass what came the other day, she been stayed nigh a week now. Always, she leaves at the daybreak and stays all the while, as if great business she has. Course, she just may, not for me to be a'sayin it isn't."

"Is she from away, like myself?" Ash asked, not really caring, but trying to divert the conversation from the rant the old man had it set on earlier; that of an old harlot over in Port Agrintha.

"Oh sure, she be from away. Pretty girl, she be, excepting her dark outlook everything over. Maybe a reason she's got for all that hate, but it's nothing I've been able to figure. Always she dresses in black, a great cloak and hood over her face, there is. And her eyes...bright and sharp as keen might be." He placed his hand on his wrinkled chin and actually sat for a moment in silence. Ash was interested in seeing this person, and if she was all as strange as the old man made her out to be. If she was from another region Ash had visited before, it might pay to talk with her for a little while.

"Do you serve meals here, sir?" He didn't want to seem rude, but his stomach had kicked with a ferocious growl that couldn't be ignored. And Pikachu was squirming uncomfortably as well.

"Aye, we be havin eatings. Bael! Wake yer lazy self and get to a'cookin!" He shook his head and lowered his voice to normal, "That lazy sot is gonna be the endings of myself. But I'm feelin all inhospitable, now. My name is being Ralaf. Forgive me rambles...I haven't even taken yer change and given yer room yet. Dear me."

"It's fine, sir. My name's Ash. And here's your money." He produced a small sack which housed coins. In most other regions, currency was given and taken on computers and cards, but here it was still made of bits of precious metal. Ash took out three small coins and handed them to the man. He promptly dropped them in his own purse and fished under the counter for a key, which he handed to Ash.

"Second on the left, as ye head up the stairs. It be havin a bed and a chest to store yer things. Lock it or not as ye please. Just be makin sure to give me back the key when ye be a'leavin. And Bael ought to be havin the food done soon, so ye can just wait here or come back at later if ye wish." Ralaf turned and went into the kitchen. Ash figured he was going to either aid with the cooking or set Bael straight. He chuckled at the comedy of it all, and proceeded to his room.

The key fit perfectly, second door on the left. There was a bed, looking rather serene under Ash's weary state. A medium-sized, four-drawer chest was against the right wall of the room, and he set his backpack down against it. He'd arrange his things later. Pikachu hopped down to the bed and bounded about in glee. He too was looking forward to the comfort it would no doubt offer.

Sitting on the bed, Ash opened a zipper on the side of his pack and pulled out his old cap. It was the one he had worn when he left for his Pokemon journey at age ten. It had the symbol for the Pokemon League upon it, and he used to cherish that hat and fight tooth and nail for it. He'd wrestled it back from a Primeape, fought Misty for it again and again when she had a mind to be cruel. He'd nearly fallen off a sixty foot precipice to retrieve it from a tree branch, where it had blown in a gale. He sat it on his head, it being far too small now. He was eighteen; almost grown. So much had happened in the time since he left home for Pokemon. He never would have guessed he'd have stayed away for so long.

Pikachu curled up on his stomach as he leaned back against the wall. Old memories flowed through his head, and he smiled as he recalled them. He thought of Misty, and how they first met. If it hadn't been for that bike, he probably wouldn't have ever come to know her, "I wonder how she's doing, Pikachu. I'd like to see her again, see if she's changed as much as I have." The little electric rodent cooed at the recognition of that name, missing his old friend as well, "I think I'll try to find her when I get back. Maybe I'll call her and see if she'd like to have dinner or something." He leaned up, preparing to go back downstairs and poke around the odds and ends of the fireplace. Pikachu climbed atop his shoulder as he opened the door and walked out into the hall.

It was a little past two, according to his watch. Though these people didn't tell time like he did, he still kept an account of it in modern terms. The smell of cooking food brought water to his mouth as he descended the stairs. He could hear Ralaf yelling at Bael in the back, accompanied with the sounds of pots and pans clamoring about. He laughed again, and thought maybe he'd spend a few more nights here.

A wave of electrified heat and a sharp cry from Pikachu jolted his attention to his immediate right. Enveloped in a wave of electricity, he saw a small knife hurtling away from them. He hit the floor as fast as he could as he caught the glimmer of steel out of the corner of his eye again and was aware of another weapon being loosed. This knife lodged itself in the wooden banister of the staircase. Raising his head, Ash saw a darkly cloaked figure standing in the doorway to the inn. He knew immediately it was the girl Ralaf had been talking about, and for some reason she had some knives with Ash's name on them.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ash jumped back to his feet, noticing the girl wasn't making any immediately threatening movements. Pikachu was on the floor before him, growling, with currents of blue flickering about his small body.

"I have been given an order of execution for an Ash Ketchum. My organization needs you dead, and I deliver." Her voice was sharp, but cold. Ash got the impression of a great surge of potential emotion behind her cool visage, suppressed with expert control. And indeed, without the slightest bit of hesitation, she drew forth another throwing knife from a belt at her waist, and cocked her wrist at an angle of readiness.

"Who are you? What did I do to get marked for execution?" Ash had his hands raised before him, an instinctual gesture however uneffective. Slowly, he backed up towards the staircase, trying to put as much distance between him and her as possible. He knew from the first two missiles she had thrown that she wasn't an amateur, so any hope of a miss was dashed rather badly.

But he was saved once again by Pikachu, who sensed the impending danger and used his terrific agility to spring off the bar and tackle the girl. Her knife went one way, and she the other, her obviously having not expected a physical attack from an electric rodent. And Ash knew his only opportunity when he saw it. All his years of travel hadn't left him weak, and he was sure he could restrain her. So he ran to her, grabbing her arms in a sort of headlock to arrest her assault. She struggled against his grip in vain, her wiry strength impressive, but not enough.

"Dammit Ash, let me go!" The girl was no fool, nor was she incompetent in her trade as a killer, for with a motion as smooth as flowing water, she slid her leg around the back of Ash's and threw all her weight forward, effectively kicking his leg from under him and sending them both towards the ground, head-first. And her gamble paid off, for instead of letting her face take the brunt of both their weights, Ash extended his arm to stop their fall. This was the chance she needed to escape, and she used it. In a flash, she was under his remaining arm and free of his grip. Ash tried to grab at her again, but she was too fast, and was out the door before he could even regain his footing.

* * *

He stood in amazement for some time, heart beating rapidly and a blank stare penetrating the portal of the door. Ralaf and Baer were standing behind the bar, asking if he was hurt, but he said nothing. What was all that about? A hundred questions raced through his mind, each laced with thousands of potential answers. And those came with millions of adjustments and doubts, and all this at one time. So any inquiries as to his well-being would have to wait. Why was he picked for murder? Who wanted him dead? Who was she? Why didn't she kill him when she had the chance? What to do now?

Pikachu was still on guard before him, electricity sparking about from his cheek-sacs. There had been something strange about that girl that Ash couldn't quite put his finger on, aside from her wanting to kill him, that is.

"Never in all me days I'd a'thought that girl might try an kill ye! I knowed she to be a strange one, and I thought her up to nothing good, but a mighty far jump from no good is murder. Ye sure ye be fine?" Ralaf placed his hand on Ash's shoulder, which snapped the latter back into the room.

"Oh, yes. Thank you. I'm just a little shaken up." Baer was standing outside the doorway, looking about for the girl, but Ash knew she was long gone. But when would she come back next, this time in the night? She had some very impressive skills, only a few of which she had used against him, he was sure. He just knew she would be able to get a knife to his throat in the middle of the night without making a sound or disturbing a fly.

"And ye've a right to be, I might say. Anybody come after me own life, and I figure I'd be worse then ye are now. Course, in my age, I couldn't beat away anybody what might wish me ill." Ralaf left Ash and went back in the kitchen, and came out again with a few plates of food, "Don't know if yer still a'wantin these, but here they be." He sat them down in front of Ash, who had indeed lost a great chunk of his appetite. Nevertheless, his body needed sustenance, and he knew it. The hot bowl of soup and the steaming loaf of bread before him created a tantalizing aroma which served to somewhat dull the edge of what had just transpired. He made himself eat, and found it to be quite good fare.

* * *

Fear prevented sleep. A paranoid, jumpy terror that found its way into every creak of a floorboard or scuttle of rat was the darkness that loomed over Ash. He sat in his bed, lamp lit, Pikachu standing guard at the door, which was locked every way he could imagine. The window worried him the most. His was one of the few rooms that had a window, a luxury to be sure, but now a potential curse. She was as quick as a Scyther and as stealthy as a Kecleon. If she wanted, Ash had no doubt she could get a blade to his neck without drawing the slightest bit of attention.

He loathed this situation, and pondered it deep into the darkness. He had been so set on a nice, comfortable bed, and now that he was sitting on it, fear for his life prevented him from taking advantage of the stuffed goodness supporting his behind. And why was he marked for execution? Granted, he had made a few enemies over his years, but none he could recall that were this blasted talented. Jessie and James were fools, the dozen or so odd trainers he had crossed the wrong way weren't possibly murderous, that warrior caste on Shell Island two years ago were all dead now...no idea. And to make it worse, there was something about that girl that just grabbed him the wrong way. It was as if trying to remember a word used all his life, but when asked, having no memory of it save for to know that he should.

And Pikachu was acting very strange. Of course, he was on guard for his master's life, alert and ready, but something else in his face sent Ash's mind spiraling into deeper confusion. Within the tough visage of sentry duty was traced layers of a certain sadness, almost grief. To put it colloquially, he looked as if the hogs had eaten his baby brother.

But what did he do? That was the foremost question bashing itself into the front of his thoughts regularly. She had expressly said he was marked for execution, so she was an assassin. Who wanted him dead, and why? He almost wished he could ask her, but to do so would be to face her skill at dealing death, and he knew from experience how completely stupid that would be.

Yet the night was long, and his thoughts tedious. Hours found him awake, searching the abyss of the night for unknowns and memories. His body was exhausted, and his mind frail. The soft bed flowed to create an ethereal lushness of fabric and comfort that could not be forcibly ignored. Haziness drifted into his thoughts, lulled by the tick of his watch and soothed by the pacing of his Pikachu. And as another hour fell away into the void of forever, Ash Ketchum fell asleep. And as a wraith from the netherworld of yesterday, a shadow detached itself from the darkness and flew as a spirit of malice toward the sleeping young man.

End, Chapter 1


End file.
